


That Pink Cardigan Must Go

by ultragirlvfr750



Category: The Closer
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-20 23:32:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3669258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultragirlvfr750/pseuds/ultragirlvfr750
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set firmly in the Closer Universe.  Season 5 - ep 15 - the iconic scene where Brenda and Sharon finally admit to the fact that they don't like one another.  Except I call bullshit because there was enough unresolved sexual tension in that scene to ruin a thousand pairs of panties.  This fic takes place directly after Sharon awkwardly walks out of Brenda's office and is my imagining of what happened next.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Pink Cardigan Must Go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [UbiquitousMixie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UbiquitousMixie/gifts).



“The thing is….” Sharon started but before she could even finish her sentence that infernal woman interrupted her yet again.

“We just don’t like each other.”

The Chief smiled awkwardly and Sharon clenched her hands together in her lap, biting down on her cheek to stop herself from reflexively returning the expression. There was no reason to smile at the other woman who had single-handedly obstructed, what should have been a routine investigation, right from the very beginning. Instead she let out a sigh and shifted in her chair.

“No. We don’t,” she replied. “Oh my goodness no and you know that is a very difficult dynamic to change.”

“It is,” the diminutive blonde was nodding in agreement, “it is.”

“It’s very hard on everyone,” Sharon continued, shifting on her chair in the other direction. The conversation had taken a surreal turn and even though they were finally admitting to one another their mutual loathing Sharon, ironically, found that in doing so she was coming to the conclusion that she didn’t loathe Brenda at all. 

And that was a problem. 

Because when had she started thinking about the Chief as Brenda? 

And why was she still sitting in her office, apparently mesmerized by the way the younger woman tossed her blonde ponytail or brought her hand up to scrub at her furrowed brow? Why, the longer they investigated the case of Ally Moore, had she made up reasons to stand close to the Chief just to catch a whiff of her perfume? Something flowery, like the hideous skirts she insisted on wearing. 

And speaking of hideous, someone should really tell Brenda that there was everything wrong with a pink double-knit cardigan. Except she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from the front of it. She coughed and shook her head.

“Ok,” her own voice sounded as though it was coming from a long way off.

She willed herself to stand up. 

Brenda was staring at her, those deep brown eyes seeming to follow her every movement. 

Suddenly the atmosphere in the office was too close. The air crackled with electricity.

“Well,” she stood and backed up, her hands fumbling for the security of her suit pockets.

“Good.”

“Well thank you so much for your final report,” Brenda’s words ran over Sharon’s and she threw her glasses down onto the completed file, her gaze never leaving the Captain’s face. “Thank you.”

Sharon watched Brenda shift in her chair, mirroring her previous discomfort, and for one strange moment the Captain inexplicably knew what the other woman was fighting. She’d been fighting against it as well.

Desire.

“Um…” Sharon unconsciously clamped her legs together more firmly.

“Have a good night Chief,” she finished and before the other woman could answer she turned on her heel and marched out of the office.

“Good night. Good night to you.”

The sound of Brenda’s awkward farewell echoed in Sharon’s ears as stalked away from the Deputy Chief, striking out blindly in the vague direction of the ladies toilet. She stopped short, leaned her back against the wall and breathed deeply. Her heart was beating hard and a wetness had bloomed at the apex of her thighs.

For God’s sake she was aroused by a conversation with Brenda Leigh Johnson. When had that started?

Sharon clenched her fist and bit down on the knuckle of her index finger. Hard. The elevator was only across the murder room and around the corner. 

But she didn’t move.  
———————————————————————————————————  
“That woman!”

Brenda sat staring at the chair the Captain had just vacated, her mouth in a petulant moue.

Everything about Captain Raydor was irritating. From her clipped speech, her constant hectoring about the rules to her perfectly coiffed hair. 

Brenda didn’t seem to be able to stop thinking about the Captain’s hair, how it draped across her shoulders in a chocolate wave. She wondered if it would feel as glossy as it looked. Vanilla. Sharon’s hair smelled of vanilla. Brenda knew because she’d purposely stood close enough to the older woman in the morgue earlier that day, long enough to breathe in the delicate scent. She’d had to stop herself from reaching out to touch it.

Brenda shook her head and brought herself violently back to her office. 

She should be packing up. Heading home. Getting back to worrying about why Fritz seemed so angry and distant these days. 

Instead she pulled open her candy drawer, yanked out a twizzler and jammed it in her mouth. The sugar hit her system immediately, momentarily drawing her attention away from the aching between her legs. 

She splayed back in her chair, pushing the liquorice slowly back and forth in her mouth, feeling it slide against her lips, tasting the sweetness and wondering absently what it would be like to kiss Sharon Raydor. What it would be like to taste her. Would she be sweet?

Lost in her fantasy she dreamily lifted her hand and slid it under the top of her sweater, her own fingertips hot against her chest, inching slowly toward the hardened nipple of her own breast.

"Chief, can I just say…."

At the sound of Captain Raydor’s voice Brenda bolted upright in her chair, her eyes flew open in shock, hand frozen against her chest.

"Captain Raydor, what on earth…" was all she managed as she jerked to her feet, feeling her face flush as she yanked her hand free from her sweater, stumbling out from behind her desk.

Sharon halted in the doorway, her flimsy excuse for returning to the Chief’s office dying on her lips. 

Brenda saw her eyes widen imperceptibly behind her glasses and watched in helpless embarrassment as a myriad of expressions warred with her usual stony composure. For one endless moment  
Brenda thought she would turn on her heel and leave just as quickly as she had arrived. 

Brenda held her breath, her fingertips pressed against the searing heat of her face, caught between her fervent wish for the Captain to disappear and a sudden cramp of desire as she held the brunette’s gaze.

"That must be some liquorice, Chief," Sharon’s voice was a low purr.

Brenda blushed even harder and time seemed to slow down around her. She watched as Sharon slid her foot behind her, in an almost balletic move, closing the office door with a definitive click. At the same time she reached up with one fluid motion and levered the blinds closed, shutting the two of them off from the accusing picture of Shawn Moore and the empty murder room.

"Captain…I," Brenda stammered.

"Chief?" Sharon replied, her lips quirking in a slight smile as she closed the distance between them. 

"Today it’s been…."

Sharon moved closer, her eyes never leaving Brenda’s, until the Deputy Chief was backed against the front of her desk.

"It’s just been very….," Brenda tripped over her own words.

She had never been this close to the Captain before and she was suddenly engulfed in a rush of sensations. Sharon’s eyes were a deep moss green but Brenda could see they were flecked with amber that caught the dim light. Her expression was at once intense yet playful and Brenda caught the now familiar scent of vanilla and some darker, muskier smell.

"….everythin’s all upside down…"

Sharon reached up and cupped Brenda’s chin, her thumb resting lightly on the blonde’s lips, hushing the stream of words. Brenda’s breath hitched in her chest and she felt her breasts brush ever so slightly against the Captain’s blazer. Both nipples instantly hardened and she worked to bite back the growl starting low in her throat.  
Sharon grasped Brenda’s other hand, the one with the offending twizzler, and brought it to her mouth, her lips ghosting across Brenda’s palm. She bit the fleshy pad below the little blonde’s thumb and Brenda cried out, her hips reflexively pushing against the Captain.

Emboldened, Sharon pressed her knee between the Deputy Chief’s thighs, nudging them open. For her part Brenda planted her hands on the forgotten paperwork behind her and hauled herself upward until she was sitting, legs slightly splayed, on the desk.

Sharon’s nostrils flared as she removed her glasses and tossed them next to the computer. She fingered a strand of blonde hair that had somehow escaped Brenda’s pony-tail, reaching around to free the rest of her curls from their elastic. Brenda felt her hair tumble around her shoulders and she mimicked the Captain, ghosting her knuckles along the brunette’s cheek, down the column of her neck, until she was sifting her fingers through Sharon’s thick hair.

"That hideous cardigan has got to go," Sharon commanded, her voice a whisper, lips against Brenda’s ear.

In one swift movement Brenda popped open the top button and Sharon pushed the sweater slowly off of the other woman’s shoulders, her lips tentatively trailing down her neck, across her collarbone, venturing lower. Brenda gasped and wound her fingers in Sharon’s hair, tugging her head upward, her mouth seeking the Captain’s.

There was nothing tentative about Sharon’s kiss. Her lips slid effortlessly open and Brenda captured them, kissing her hungrily. She pushed her tongue into the brunette’s mouth, dizzy with desire. Sharon pulled back slightly and Brenda made a mewling noise in her throat as Sharon’s tongue teased at her top lip, nipped at the side of her mouth before kissing her again, this time with more force.

Brenda shoved Sharon’s blazer back as she clawed at her skirt, yanking the Captain’s shirt out of the waistband, desperate to feel the other woman’s skin under her hands. They roamed upward and Sharon arched her back, her hips grinding in frustration against the desk. Their kiss intensified and Brenda felt Sharon moaning against her lips as her fingertips slid over the satin of Sharon’s bra. She could feel the tautness of the other woman’s nipples through the fabric and Sharon writhed against her. 

Sharon was the first to break their kiss, pulling back, her breath coming in short huffs.

"Please..," Brenda whined.

"Just sit still," Sharon replied, picking up Brenda’s abandoned twizzler.

"Don’t you ever get tired of bossin’ people around?" Brenda retorted and grabbed for Sharon, intent on continuing their kiss.

"Not when it’s in their best interest," Sharon’s voice was husky as she slid the candy into her mouth, "even when they don’t know it."

Her words were obscured by the liquorice but there was no mistaking her intent.

She leaned in, brushing the candy along Brenda’s lips while at the same time sliding her fingers inexorably higher up Brenda’s bare thigh.  
Brenda moaned and bit down on the twizzler, tasting the sweetness of the candy and Sharon’s lips all at once. Her mouth opened and she pressed her lips harder into Sharon’s and passed the dissolving liquorice into Sharon’s mouth. She groaned as Sharon’s fingers crept higher and higher.

Her head fell back and she stilled her body, willing the Captain not to stop.

Sharon circled her thumb at the apex of Brenda’s thighs, teasing her until the younger woman was panting and gripping the sides of the desk.

"Captain…" it was a cry more than a command and Sharon pushed the scrap of Brenda’s underwear to one side, sliding her fingers deep into the lithe blonde’s heat.

Brenda’s fist flew to her mouth and she bit down hard on her knuckles to stop herself from crying out. Pleasure cascaded through her in waves and she realized in horror that the Captain had aroused her so thoroughly that she was already on the edge. 

She shifted her hips forward, clenching her thighs as Sharon’s thumb slid upward through her slick folds, circling her clit, gently at first and then with more pressure. Sharon pushed deeper, scissoring her fingers and Brenda bucked against the Captain’s hand, riding out her exquisite pleasure. 

With her free hand Sharon grabbed Brenda’s shirt and shoved it upward with the heel of her hand, pushing at her bra and burying her face between Brenda’s breasts. She nosed the fabric higher until her lips found the hardened nipple she was seeking. She flicked it lightly with her tongue and Brenda whipped her head back and forth, moaning, her fist still firmly against her mouth. 

Sharon scissored her fingers again and rocked the palm of her hand against Brenda’s pubic bone. Brenda ground herself against the Captain, keening as she abandoned herself to utter sensation as she shattered over the edge. She came in waves, hard, jerking her hips forward, clenching and unclenching around Sharon’s relentlessly sliding fingers.

Her breath came in hitching gasps and Sharon slung her arm around Brenda, cradling her, her hand smoothing the hair on her brow as she rode out the last of her pleasure. When her breathing finally returned to normal Sharon gently withdrew her hand, eliciting a final twinge and a tired moan from the blonde in her arms.

She brought her hand languidly to her face, tasting Brenda’s sweetness on her fingers. The air around them smelled of musk, their mingled desire.

Brenda looked down and the files where she had been perched were, without a doubt, beyond saving.

Sharon reached over and picked up her glasses, settling the black frames on her face, signalling that there was a coming end to the moment. They weren’t quite there yet but Brenda sighed, closed her legs slightly and straightened her skirt. Her mind was already whirring in a thousand different directions.

Now what? 

For heaven’s sake they didn’t even like each other.

And yet…

What would this be like with the privacy of a room and the comfort of time, of an actual bed?

"Looks like I’ll be needin’ another copy of your report on Ally Moore."

Sharon cupped Brenda’s face in her palms, kissing her gently, allowing her lips to linger. Brenda couldn’t decide if she was saying hello or goodbye. 

"I’d be happy to print one out for you, Chief," Sharon replied, her face settling back into its usual, unreadable composure. "I’d even hand deliver it."

Brenda snorted and smiled awkwardly, her hands twisting behind her back.

"Well thank you for that offer, Captain. Thank you very much."

Sharon twitched her blazer back into place, smoothed her hair, and for the second time that evening, turned to leave.

Before she could go, Brenda grabbed her arm and spun her gently around, pulling the taller woman into a crushing embrace.

"You make sure you bring that report back personally Captain Raydor," she whispered fiercely, "there’s a number of things I need to go over. Quite a number of things.”

"Well, in the interest of changing the dynamic between FID and Major Crimes I think that can be arranged."

**Author's Note:**

> Mea Culpa - the dialogue at the beginning of this fic was lifted directly from the actual script. Brutally plagiarized for fic purposes. TNT please don't sue me. I promise to put Brenda and Sharon back where I found them when I'm done playing.


End file.
